


death by a thousand cuts

by septembersnotes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Bodied Reader, Slow Burn, also a lot of crack, armin talks shit madder than ur local nona, ceo au?, filth in the later chapters, jean has a degree in organizing spreadsheets, loosely based around canon, reader hates capitalism and eren has a lot money, some characters are OOC but hey it's a vibe, title is a taylor swift ref would 10/10 suggest listenning, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:40:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septembersnotes/pseuds/septembersnotes
Summary: The vice president of Marley Inc. incorporated is wrapped in rumors, megalomaniac plotting schemes and unbridled secrets. A certain journalist just wants to pay off her college debt. Due to a wonderous thing called capitalism and emotional manipulation, they meet. Soon, both of them learn the value of information, secrets, and loyalties.
Relationships: Eren Yeager/Reader, Jean Kirstein/Reader, Slight!
Kudos: 10





	death by a thousand cuts

"Fuck off Springer, I'm not investing in your bitcoin venture." 

"Cryptocurrency is the future, and you, my dear-" Connie pointed his pizza slice towards you, eyes glinting mischievously ''-are going to be broke very, very soon.”

"I'm already broke, dipshit." You held out your shattered iPhone 5s, next to his _iPhone 12 pro max 512 GB,_ (he would eat your head off if anybody even dared omit a word) that he probably stole from some rich dude's pocket at the sentinel. 

"Broke is a state of mind." Armin's airy voice chirped as he entered the living room of your shared apartment with Connie and Sasha. He lived on the floor above you, completing his fully funded doctorate at the tender age of twenty-four, while you ate your fifth cup of cheap ramen and argued about bitcoin with Connie.

“My dear Arlert, I respectfully ask you to kindly refrain from your psychology bullshit.” 

He smiled, holding a stack of books “Philosophy.” He corrected gently. Connie rolled his eyes, inspecting the cheese on his pizza closely. 

“Whatever smartass, you majored in both.” You threw your octopus plush toy towards him as he yelped and ducked away from it, laughing cutely. How could that jerk just leave him like this?

"I'm just here to take my book! see you around guys, I have clean money and a thesis to defend!”

Damn prodigies and their ability to get doctorates on a full scholarship in 3 years while the rest of your batch toils away under crippling university debt, looking into shady business ventures and menial work to make ends meet. 

Times had been tough since your lot graduated from Shiganshina university, with degrees barely holding any worth in the competitive job market and debt none of you would ever payback. 

Soooo much for majoring in liberal arts. 

Your close friend Mikasa was currently touring the world, touting her groundbreaking research in biotechnology to Hizuru along with her mentor Hange, getting paid stacks on stacks while the rest of you sat in your shared apartment with nothing but fizzled out ambition, rejected resumes, and broken iPhones.

Well, all except Armin, Connie, Sasha, and Jean. 

Well, maybe just you. 

Our dear Connie, aside from his bitcoin venture, along with Jean ran a food services venture, funded by the latter's family money in secret, but in reality, they don't deal with food at all. it's a front. They scam everybody and everything that comes their way, and under the guise of 'donating to the poor' these two fuckers empty out the vaults of even the most miser elites in the country, they even looped in poor Armin for hacking into bank accounts on the side, you didn’t even know Armin could hack! Apparently, his relationship with hacking originated from saving his ex-best friend eren in high school from failing by tampering with the grades in the academic database. The entire ordeal involved breaking in at night, bribing the student council with chocolates, and Mikasa punching somebody in the bathroom.

Albeit the ever kind Armin refused to take his share from the job, citing fear over disparaging his professional reputation if he ever got caught, and doing this only because he was _'curious to see how much did he have left him from ‘the good ol days’’_ , it was odd to see him have an absolutely feral look as he entered into highly secured databases from the rich and elite in Paradis.

Not even Sasha was spared from this act! Sasha, like Armin, had a clean record, she had a steady mukbang channel but she was running a little low on funds and detox tea sponsorships were Not Her Thing, Jean, the clever bastard, banked on this and hired her to act as PR for the organization! They tried to recruit you countless times, but you always stood your ground. Motivated by Armin, you had a rather stubborn streak and still held on to the dream of becoming a renowned journalist, if you were to somehow go for grad school, that would mean having a clean resume and good funding. Heavens forbid if Jean and Connie’s delicate venture cover ever blew up and with a klutz like you, caught in embezzlement, it would guarantee flipping burgers and writing blog posts for the rest of your life. 

Oh, and a criminal record too. 

Connie's reasons for doing it made sense, in a way, he was like you, from an average family looking to make a quick buck, and honestly, you don't blame him, he hated the idea of further education and just wanted to support his side hustle unlike you.

Society is blasted this way. 

Yet, a peculiar issue came with Jean. You don't even know why Jean does it, he started this entire thing two years ago! His parents are fucking loaded, part of the goddamn elite! why would he raid his own kind? maybe he wants to be noticed by his absent dad for once, or maybe he's just trying to upstage his esteemed rival, his friend with whom he had a fall out in the sophomore year before the latter transferred to Marley institute of finance, or maybe because he loves the entire lot of you and wants you all to be financially secure by orchestrating an embezzlement venture, expressing his love in its very twisted way. 

No, definitely not that one. 

Your thoughts were disrupted by a loud bang on the door. and there Sasha stood, in all her glory, glaring at Connie, wait no, at the half-eaten pizza in Connie's hand.

“That was for the YouTube video, you fucking idiot! I promised my viewers to finish 10 boxes of pizza and now I have 9, do you want me to get canceled?! Do you know how delicate social media dynamics are these days!” she seethed, lunging towards him. 

"Right, my cue to leave. bye headass!" he blew you an air kiss and out of reflex you visibly gagged at the gesture, before grimacing at your nickname.

Out of all names possible, your friends collectively chose to call you headass, you’re not even that dumb!

Well, maybe that one time when you accidentally said _his_ name during lunch and everybody refused to speak to you for the rest of the week.

God, it was almost like he was Voldemort. 

Connie bolted upstairs with Sasha trailing behind him like a wolf.  
This would not end well for him.

But that's none of your business. 

You went back to moping as you glared down towards your broken phone, looking like a busted wagon next to Connie's sleek iPhone, a goddamn Mercedes.

You felt hunger claw your heart. 

"You don't have health insurance, Springer!" Jean's voice filled the solar, and you felt your cheeks run warm at his voice. He lived in a penthouse closeby and regularly dropped in during lunch to er, check for updates from Connie. 

You always make it a point to be free during the afternoon. 

"Why so pensive, headass?" he called out lovingly.  
You blushed, putting your phone back into your pocket.  
"Capitalism."   
"Indeed." he nodded solemnly, taking a seat once occupied by Connie. 

Too close.

Damn you and your stupid crush on him! You know he would never reciprocate, his mind is half food mafia scheming, and half-filled with thoughts about Mikasa, unfortunately for him though, she was in love with another blonde. You were on terms with your unrequited feelings though, and honestly, it was fine, but it still did not stop you from going red. 

"How is your new job faring?" he opened a can of coke, chugging half of it down in one go. You marveled at his prowess in chugging down fizzy things.  
"Better than Connie's bitcoin ventures and your joint food mafia web."  
Jean let out a boyish grin.  
"Writing thesis long papers for an insignificant blog run by a 40-year-old with no aim in life, right?"  
"Content writing for a microblogging platform startup.” You corrected, borderline offended by the truth, but too defensive of your field of work to voice your agreement. 

"It's called journalism. And it's not insignificant, it's niche."

"And how much does that get you, hm?" his _Cartier_ ring glinted in the sunlight. Your eyes felt a rabid hunger for the second time today.   
"Enough."  
"Enough?" he laughed, "girl, just _enough_ to scrape by." he inspected your attire, thrift store jeans, and an oversized hoodie. Shit, you hadn't changed your shirt in two days. 

"I haven't seen you shop in years."  
"Fuck fast fashion. adopt environment sustainability."  
"(name)."  
"Save mother earth."  
"(name)."

You looked up at him. He didn't look amused.

_Ugh._ There goes your plan for standup comedy. 

"I know you really like your field of work." He started, and your eyes found purchase in the strings from your worn-out hoodie, trying to tune his nagging voice out. Crush or no crush, you did not like being lectured on career paths. If you were to make a bare minimum doing what you like, then so be it. You may get jealous, but you know no work aside from writing would ever bring you this kind of joy or comfort. A few hits of envy here and there are only natural. 

"-and don't complain about making the bare minimum after graduating from a university as prestigious as Shiganshina uni."  
"But, this isn't good in the long run. Financially."

God damn it, he went there. 

“(Name), you don’t have a backup plan. I’m worried.”  
"Is this another attempt at trying to recruit me into your burger mafia?"   
He bit back a smile.  
"You threatened to bleach my hair with Clorox last time I tried, and i" he raked his fingers through his hair. "very much love my rose gold locks."

_I do too._

His smile widened to a cheeky grin "We do need an accountant though."  
"I can't do the math." You stated as a matter of fact. Fuck numbers.  
Jean's laugh reverberated the room.   
"I know, headass. I have seen it first hand in college." you blushed at the memory, dividing 66 by 66, and crying when the answer was in fact, not 66, but 1.  
"So no, I'm not recruiting you into my burger mafia full time.” You let out a sigh of relief. 

"-However, i have another proposition. A one-time thing.”  
"I am not going to do anything shad-“  
“Write for me.”  
"What?"   
"A job. for me." He deadpanned, inspecting the fallen octopus plush toy on the ground.  
You blinked.  
“Information.”

"You wanna be a journalist right?" You nodded slowly "and you very well know just how invaluable information is." You nodded again.  
"What if I ask you to be my journalist? For just one event?"  
"Will it involve me doing anything illegal?"  
"Not if you get caught."  
"Jean-" your eyes flashed.  
"I'm kidding!" he threw his hands up "it's a clean job. Cover an event for me. You go in, eavesdrop, get information, and get out. no hacking, no stealing, no fun stuff." 

"What's the cut."  
"A thousand for one page of information, a million for a hundred pages worth."   
You went silent.   
"Even more, if you manage to bring the company down by just writing down what you heard and publishing it under a pseudonym.” he took a sip from his cola. 

Jean doesn't play when it comes to money. You know he doesn't. If he says the cut is grand then the cut is a grand, tax-free. His associates are always dressed in nothing less than a designer. But his jobs are dangerous. risky, and definitely not made for someone like you, a complete klutz unique in your personal brand of failure. 

Fuck. 

"I, I don't know," you admitted. Sure, the money sounded good. But that much money with such little risk? Something was amiss, 

He called out your name again, and you turned to look at him. His eyes held sincerity. a part of you wanted to believe in him. and a part of you did. Underneath all that pride, you were desperate for money. even a grand for someone like you would do it. Your family left nothing behind and your three part-time jobs weren’t cutting it for you. 

"Wouldn't it be relieving to never worry about what goes out of your pocket for the rest of your life?"

The distance between Jean and you felt closer than before. He stood up and walked over to where you sat, holding your gaze as he knelt down, and called your name out in that voice. You had always hated how his voice lulled you into agreeing all these years. From lending your college notes to now accepting a potentially disastrous job. 

"Make a thousand, and you're set for a month. make a million, and you're set for life."  
"Think about it. why be broke when you could be a broker?" You smiled at how lame that line was. 

"Capitalism sucks. but with a little money, it would suck less for you." You drew in a sharp breath. it seemed as if he read your latest blog post on that website you worked for. Even though you were indifferent to hate or compliments alike because you know they never mean anything. The thought of him reading your article made me giddy, no lie.

"You refuse to let me pay for you for all these years, and with good reason."   
"But information is endless, sweetheart. and if you manage to get a lot of it for me, you will never have to tolerate Connie's cryptocurrency bullshit or live off cheap ramen and thrift clothes for as long as you live. With the money, you could fund your graduate school and leave this shithole forever, I'll get you connected with the top networks and you could make clean money for the rest of your life." 

Fuck. Jean's always been good with words. And with the way, he was now holding your gaze, you didn't even need to think, if you could get a smidge of this look again, you would take even the most dangerous tasks. 

"What am I doing?" You asked, toying with your phone. 

Jean smiled. 

"Getting intel from the vice president of Marley inc. The VP is in charge of a rumored plan to crash all the stakeholders, and overthrow his own president. My sources tell that he wants to take all the profit for the company and himself and restructure the entire company because he doesn't like the way it's run.”   
"Sounds like a selfish asshole."  
Jean barked a laugh "He's a unique kind of a selfish asshole, I'll give him that. Get this, he thinks he will save everybody by ruining everything and start new.”

“Can’t have enemies if you kill them all.”  
Jean hummed, “Exactly his thought process.”

He paused. "My parents are allies with that company, I don't want them to lose out on everything they own because some maniac wants all the money for himself and his company."  
"Fucking capitalist."  
"He's horrible." he concurred, grabbing your knuckles like an excited child. Jean's never been this..affectionate. you could feel your ears go red.   
"So, my job for you, should you accept-" you scoffed at the reference. 

"-If you think your cute little butt can sneak into the Sentinel's rooftop bar on a not so special Friday evening when they hold a not soo special charity event, and drop in this," he held up a voice recorder ", at the VIP table where not so important people discuss not so important things." his eyes looked into mine, "then I might just make the digits in your bank account go from four to six, and maybe have a cup with you at Levi’s teashop downtown.”

What the- how did he know?

"How did I know?" he voiced your thoughts aloud, standing near the door with a pleasant grin. 

"Armin doesn't shut the fuck up when you give him enough cosmopolitans and Hegel. After a couple of glasses, shawty loses all rational restraint goes from talking about analytical philosophy to spreading shit about everybody and their mom, his APA ethics go out of the window, not even the cats are spared," he said seriously, before pressing his lips on my knuckles. the world shifted. 

Well, shit. There goes your hopes of having someone slowly falling in love with you, a tale filled with pining and long glances, culminating with a huge dinner ball where the two of you dance all night. 

Even though now jean knows you, er, how does Sasha say it? ‘simp’ for him, and he even offered to take you out on a date, you couldn't help but feel disappointed though. 

Can't have shit in paradis city, you supposed. 

"You start next week. I'll have connie run you up with the sentinel's map and basic high society protocol."  
"Connie?" You hesitated, only now remembering the noise of him getting his ass kicked by Sasha upstairs. "High society etiquette? Are you sure?"

You do know Connie had a penchant for pickpocketing, but smooth-talking? persuasion? pseudo-intellectual horsefuckery? 

Jean smirked, "You wouldn't know how much a waiter can learn and earn in a night with the right tone and nifty hands." He made it to the door, and you jumped up.   
"Jean," you called out as he was leaving.  
"Why are you doing this, aside from saving your parents, exactly?"   
He looked back at me, hand not leaving the doorknob, and his eyes displayed barely held back malice for a moment, before dissolving into the collected, calculating look of a strategist.

“I have an old score to settle.” He smiled. 

_Few days later_

You woke to the sound of a book being slammed down on your desk. 

“Rise and shine, headass. Got a long day ahead.” Scrunching your nose at the sunlight burning into your skin, you put a face to that god-awful voice and deduced it belonging to your flatmate Connie. Fuck, you slept while working again. 

Connie poked your head turned off your air conditioner, and annoyance filled you, he was like Mikasa, turning off fans and air conditioners to wake people up, and now he is also your etiquette instructor. It feels weird to call him something so formal, he literally deep-throated Sasha’s pizza yesterday. 

“Don’t get close, I have horrible morning breath.” 

“Oh, I know. _Trust me._ ” You smacked his arm as he laughed, shoving you towards the bathroom.

“Get dressed, today we cover how to stay in the limelight without drawing attention, and Armin’s going to help you teach basics of interpreting body language and how to complicate a simple sentence to look smarter without getting your ass beat, he has added anecdotes from past experience.”

“I think I know how to stay lowkey. I’m practically a nobody.” You spoke through brushing your teeth.  
Connie slapped his head and you heard the smack all the way from the bathroom “Lowkey. Not a cryptid, And you’re not a nobody, you overdramatic shit. It’s about drawing just the right amount of attention to get intel, and having the right amount of blandness to have narcissistic entitled rich people forget scum like us even breathed in the same room as them.”

"I’m leaving the schedule on the table, be out in 15, Jean has a meeting scheduled at 3 with all of us."

“Armin as well?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a big game to run from the back and Jean bribed him with croissants. All hands on deck this time.” With that, he left your room. 

You inspected your reflection in the mirror as you wiped your face. 

Walking out after a quick shower, you glanced at your calendar schedule. It was a seven-day crash course, definitely curated by Jean since you weren’t sure Connie had the skills to be this organized. you skimmed past the topics and caught words like ‘posture’ ‘basic styling with Hitch’ ‘persuasion and manipulation (for a good cause)’ ‘culinary manners’ ‘rich people talk: a comprehensive and pretentious dictionary’ ‘lying 101 (see Armin’s notes)’ ‘patience with entitled people.’, ‘history of Marley inc. and VP profile.’ the Friday a week from now was circled in yellow highlighter and said _‘showtime babey!!’_ With a winky face. 

Damn, to have Armin on board, this must be big. They probably know more about the operation than you. Just what score was Jean going to settle?

_Wednesday, next week._

“I don’t understand why does this place gets shut on a Wednesday instead of the weekend?” You looked up at the impossibly high building, you were staring at the Sentinel, a hotspot for all elites to mingle. 

Marley inc’s favorite place to host black ties and office events. 

“Weekends are when business booms for them. The bar is exceptionally well known amongst their circle.” Connie said from the back. 

You had come here to get a gist of the building layout before the main event and to attune yourself with all the places and to familiarise yourself with the exits, just in case things go awry. 

“Our people are going to be hidden during the dinner. So you won’t be stuck alone.” Jean reassured, swiping a black card through the elevator and nodding at the receptionist. The place was decked out in marble flooring and high, modern ceilings, and ambient music reverberated through the glass elevator as the three of you went _up and up and up_ to the rooftop. 

“Yelena will let you in, she’s one of us, all you do is give her this-” he handed you a green-colored coin. “-at the bar’s entrance.” You nodded.

Connie and Jean led you towards the bar, even in daylight, sentinel’s renowned bar, _Paths,_ looked incredibly stunning, with low seats and a giant tree with a bar caved in it, made up completely of jewels sitting in the middle of the room, you knew from the pictures that at night it light up like a crystal ball and gave an otherworldly vibe to the room, serving as its only source of light. Even a fool would know at first glance one needed a fuckton of money to even breathe here. 

“Headass.” Connie called out, and waved from behind the crystal curtain. “Get over here.”

You followed him, marveling at the aesthetics of the place and also ingraining everything into your memory.

Connie stuck his thumb over his shoulder, and you looked over to see a sunken table, with lighting pooling from underneath it, giving it a subtle neon glow against the onyx-colored fabric of the couch.

“This is the VIPs table. He’s going to be sitting here with the president and the rest of his gang.” Connie pointed at the corner left “That’s usually his spot. You’ll be situated right behind him, near the rear of the bar.” You nodded mutely. 

“Connie will be there as the bartender,” Jean said, “and Onyankopon will be keeping an eye to for potential trouble, you’ll be connected to me through Bluetooth and Armin will be available on your phone. Got that?” 

“If you feel any sense of discomfort, leave. I promise you nothing would happen though, but if there comes a time you think you cannot go ahead with the plan or that your cover is going to get blown, go to Yelena and ask her to show you the bathroom, she’ll escort you to the nearest exit with a pair of car keys.”

“This job isn’t for everybody, and I don’t mean that in a negative way. The VP is a maniac with no regard for people who he claimed to care deeply for. Some even call him a monster. I value information, but I value your safety more. The thousand dollars can wait.” You were surprised at the amount of concern he showed. 

You walked around a little in the marginally populated bar, it was cleaning day, and while admiring the murals on the wall, you accidentally ended up stumbling into a janitor, apologizing profusely to the messy-haired brunette as she cleaned up the spilled liquid from her bucket. 

“Sorry about her, she can be such a klutz.” Jean laughed as he grabbed your waist and dragged you away, peppering in little facts about the organization and the plan while Connie showed you around some more. 

You were not going to disappoint Jean. You weren’t going to back out, you promised yourself. All you had to do was sit, drink a virgin mojito, turn on your voice recorder for an hour, not talk to anybody unless prompted and even then just act stupid and then leave. 

You were going to do this. You were going to get at least a thousand dollars in your bank account. 

-

If paths were stunning in the afternoon, it was ethereal at night. 

You slipped into the bar at rush hour and refrained from having your jaw hit the floor at the sheer amount of wealth in front of you. Everybody was decked out in outfits worth at least a fortune, and you recognised some big names chatting and mingling at the front. All wearing the same expressions of arrogance and entitlement, with varying colors of silk gowns and ties. 

It wasn’t as if you were in your usual thrifted casual clothing, you were decked out in formal attire as well, albeit much more toned down. A simple fitted long-sleeved black dress with court room heels and an emerald bracelet, courtesy Hitch. your diamond earrings tinkled against the tree’s lighting, waiting for the VIP table to be filled up so you could get to work. You sent in your routine check-up message to Armin and he replied with a teddy bear emoji. 

You were a ball of anxiety underneath it all though, and Connie had picked up on it as he slyly passed you a mojito with _‘just enough booze to relax.’_ Fiddling with the voice recorder, you checked the time.

_8:58pm_

You had been informed the company president and vice president were very punctual people, they got in, dined, talked, and got out. Like clockwork. 

_“All good?”_ Jean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. You had two earpieces, one with Jean’s on the line, and one to pick up on the audio from the recorder connie had attached to the table on Wednesday. 

“Haven’t been picked on for a conversation yet and Connie is giving me expensive alcohol. This is as luxorious as it can get.” You heard him chuckle through the line. 

_“That’s good. Connie knows his ratios. You’ll be fine.”_

“I hope so-“ your eyes widened at the sound of the door opening. 

A pack of bodyguards entered the bar, and you saw the president of Marley inc. smile at the crowd rushing to greet him, his blond hair and beard a sharp contrast to his black suit. Behind him, another set of bodyguards followed as they made way towards the VIP seating, and you caught a glimpse of a tall man with brown hair tied in a bun sauntering behind an irritated looking auburn haired bodyguard, as he led them to behind the crystal curtains.

_He’s here._

“I assume that either you are dead from alcohol poisoning, or that the party has arrived.”

Humming quietly in confirmation, you tried to blend into the shadows of the high chair you were situated in as they settled in front of you, backs to you. Connie rushed to take in their orders, and you saw Onyankopon shoot a glance at Yelena out of the corner of your eye. 

“It’s all on you now.” Even if your task did not look like a big one, you felt important just by listening to Jean gas you up, it was a small piece in a huge puzzle. Suddenly you felt very, very, very aware of what you were doing. 

Anxiety crept up again as you felt your hands holding the recorder remote shake a little in anticipation. You were here, you were going to do it. you really were going to help Jean bring a selfish company executive down. lil ol’ you, helping in tearing down a filthy corporate monster, holy shit. 

“Bring it home, headass.” Jean’s voice gave you a shot of confidence. 

You hit play, and the wireless recorder under their table activated. 

You heard the man situated at the corner left began to speak in your ear through the piece, his voice, an odd mixture of husky and dulcet, not to mention incredibly attractive, penetrated your ears as he greeted Ymir, the owner of Fritz enterprises. Great, it was working. 

Fifty seven minutes later and two glasses of mojitos later, you finally breathed easy as everybody left the VIP table and wished each other a goodnight, that went surprisingly well. you had heard tid bits of the conversation and it included plans of ‘restructuring’ ‘merging’ and ‘eradicating the enemy’, they were using financial jargon and it was getting difficult to keep track of their plans. And honestly speaking it was none of your concern, you just had to relay the recording to Jean. Which you were now going to do as you waited for everyone to leave so you could take the recorder out and head home, long day. 

Connie had been caught up making drinks for Historia Reiss and her wife Ymir for the past thirty minutes, and now was helping the other workers clean the outside tables. Only a few people remained, the main bar was empty save for you and a few janitors in the back. Paths was still dimly lit though, so you took solace in that.

You were about to leave the table when a figure walked back into the room and made their way towards the VIP section. 

Crap, it was the vice president.

Maybe he forgot his phone or something. 

Regardless, you had to wait now. 

Looking around, he stopped right behind the crystal curtain, playing with the dangling threads of crystals and gazing at the bar you were sitting at nonchalantly, as if in deep thought, before letting out a low chuckle, confusing you slightly. Was he a little loose in the head for laughing at nothing? Or was he drunk? Hey, who were you to judge though, you laughed at deep fried memes on reddit at 3am and considered it peak comedy. 

He walked back towards the table, and put his hand under the table, dragging the taped recorder out. 

Your eyes widened and you felt the air get knocked out of your body as he inspected the device, cocking his head side to side as he twirled it in his hands, bringing it close to his mouth. 

“(Name)? What’s wrong? Is everything-“ 

_“Hello, Kirstein's pet.”_ He spoke into the recorder in a low timbre, and you felt his voice shoot right into your soul. Fear bloomed in your body. 

“I’ve heard a lot rumours about you, _headass._ ” He turned around and looked directly at you with cold amusement. Green eyes piercing even from that big of a distance.

_Fuck. Fuck. Holy fucking fuck._

You were screwed, you were so massively screwed.

_“Why don’t you come here and dispel some of them.”_ He sat down and continued to speak _“I promise you my company is worth more than a thousand dollars.”_

All warmth left your body when you met his gaze again.

_“And I would suggest leaving Arlert and Kirstein at that table.”_

Eren Yeager smiled at you. 


End file.
